


AS THE GEARS CLUNK

by thoughtsdemise



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Adventure, Adventures in space!, Fake Dating, Falling In Love, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21710038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsdemise/pseuds/thoughtsdemise
Summary: Summary:  Never do anything half assed cause you’ll end up regretting it.Prompt:  Drift and Ratchet were given a mission; these are the logged results.
Relationships: Drift/Ratchet
Kudos: 29





	1. The Cornered

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Decepticonsensual](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decepticonsensual/gifts).



> A rewrite of a sort for an older work that really needed to be redone. It’s what I get for poking my nose in my old works and reading them. Eh, I’ll see what I can do. I'm inspired!

Ratchet limps into his medbay with a deeper scowl on his face than usual. He checks some crumbled bits of metal at the nearest wall with a few choice words. His shoulders slump as he scrubs at his face and wonders why he had agreed to this stupidity. No, that’s not quite right. He does know why he agreed. It had been those big puppy eyes from the one mech Ratchet had thought wouldn’t, let alone couldn’t make them. Oh then had come the pouting with those sparkling optics. It had definitely been that sad little whimper that struck his death knell and with it his ability to say no to this asinine plan.

Ratchet huffs. “Too much of a sparked moron for my own good.”

A cleared vent to cover a snicker catches his attention. Ratchet swivels sharply and glares at the current bane of his existence. Drift’s smug smile grows into sweet arsenic as Firstaide and Ambulon enter behind him. In his grasp he held crumbled offerings Ratchet had thrown earlier. Ratchet sets his optics on the face that has turned into a dopey eyed sweetness.

::Now remember the rules and nothing half assed or it won’t be convincing.:: Drift sends to Ratchet over a private comm channel. Aloud he gave a whimpering tremble, looking over the bits of metal. “You stepped on them, didn’t you?” He looks up, disappointment a mask on his face but a mischievous glee in the sparkle of his optics. “Perhaps I should have put them on the stand by your berth before I left for my first duty shift.”

Ratchet doesn’t start, but he is keenly aware of how Firstaide and Ambulon do. He clears his vents and picks up a datapad, turning to the stasis locked patients to hide his snarl.

“Yes, Drift. That would’ve been the better choice than leaving them right in front of my door on the floor where anyone could step on them.” The scribing pen in Ratchet’s grasps gives a quiet but ominus creak. He forces a higher tone to his voice to fake disappointment. “I mean I didn’t even get to see what they were.”

Not missing a beat Drift saunters over to drape an arm around Ratchet’s shoulders, shamelessly taunting the bull. He fluctuates the lights in his optics to appear sweetly surprised. “Does … Does that mean you would like more of them?” With a notable purr and nuzzle to a stiffly held shoulder, he breems happily. “Of course, Beloved!”

He dances away, taking in the whole of the medbay with a sweep of his arms. “I shall leave you enough of these small mementos of our love so that you may display them here. What a wonderful idea you shared with me!”

Ratchet grits his denta, wishing he could punch Drift. He has to reset his vocalizer three times before he can answer without snarling at the little glitch. “Of course. That’s what I was going for.” He turns to face Drift and looks behind him to see a swooning Ambulon and wide eyed Firstaide.  _ Of all the dirty… _ He eyes the smile on Drift’s face and hesitates a beat before sending a private comm. ::You glitch-brained slag. You’re enjoying this too much.::

A pleased look of haughty self satisfaction crosses Drift’s face so quickly, Ratchet isn’t sure he didn’t imagine it. He can only stare as Drift reaches into his subspace and pulls out three folded bits of metal and hands them to Ratchet before can say anything.

“Isn’t it lucky I had some more ready then?”

Drift holds them out for Ratchet to take. He does but with a slight quiver to his hands that draws a soft chuckle from Drift.

“This… This…“

Drift grabs Ratchet by the wrist and pulls him forward to place a quick smacking kiss to his forehead. Ratchet’s right optic twitches as he’s barely able to suppress the angry growl wanting to rise up.

_ Shit. _


	2. The Petted

Rodimus openly gawks at the scene before him as he enters the weekly command staff meeting, late as usual. Drift had just slide across the conference table to pounce on Ratchet and make himself comfortable in the doctor’s lap. He snuggled up as close as he could get without wielding their plating together. Rodimus curses softly a moment later when he smacks into a wall because he hadn’t been able to take his optics off the bizarre sight. He rubs his face and sits in the captain’s place. Ratchet returns Rodimus’ confused look coolly before bringing his datapad closer. The device then holds all of Ratchet’s interest.

Magnus lifts one optical ridge but doesn’t say anything to the pair, much to everyone else’s surprise. He merely turns to Rodimus and wraps a knuckle against an orange helm to gain Rodimus’ attention He begins the meeting as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. And as per usual, he and Rodimus began to discuss, rather heavily, the correct course to take the ship in to locate the Knights of Cybertron this week.

As the second in command and captain argue over the strategic soundness of pulling coordinates out of a tailpipe versus maintaining their current heading until the Matrix revealed the next point on their path, Brainstorm turns to the cuddling pair. He taps his briefcase in thought for a moment before deciding not to comment as Drift eyes him with a challenging snarl to his lips then snuggling tighter into Ratchet’s chest. He smirks. His face hidden from all the others’ view. He can clearly hear and feel the near silent warning growls coming from the engine beneath his head, not that the impatient two-fingered tap against the armrest wasn’t telling enough

::You need to relax. Would you like me to go over some meditational chants with you? They can be,:: Drift cuts himself off as the tapping stops, and the creak of the armrest signals a deathly grip. ::So that’s a no on the chanting, huh?:: He can’t help but tease Ratchet. The temptation to do so was too great given the situation Ratchet and he found themselves in.

He swipes a digit against the glass on Ratchet’s chest as he’s steadfastly ignored. Drift settles in to try and get as comfortable as possible as he eyes Magnus and Rodimus take up their usual positions on this old argument. His attention begins to wander as he brings up the memory file from a week ago when this whole “assignment” and front had started in earnest.

Ambulon, the sweet hopeless romantic, had cornered him to offer encouragement and some advice on how to soothe Ratchet when the older doctor had one of his…  _ what had Ambulon called it; ah yes…  _ “grumpy fits”. Drift had smiled and patted Ambulon on the head with a thanks for the advice, not really wanting to know where he had come across the information to begin with. Because as far as Drift knew the tyrant of the Autobot and Cybertronian medical community didn’t currently have any significant other.

_ It’s no wonder, considering that horrific temper of his that manifest. Honestly if he’d just… just… _

Drift’s thoughts begin to scatter as he becomes acutely aware of his core temperature readings rising quickly. He stiffens and barely keeps himself from giving Ratchet a hard smack when he hears the low chuckle coming from deep in the chest he rests his head against.

Ratchet smiles openly and rather smugly as he continues to pet the trembling mech that had made himself at him in Ratchet’s lap. He had abeselt moved his free had up to cup Drift’s head and move it to a more comfortable position for both of them when his digits had accidentally scraped the tip of one helm finial earning Ratchet an unconscious soft purring shiver. His overly pleased look could have scared Unicron to the depths of the pit as he decided to take advantage of the newly discovered pleasure point. Ratchet’s look turns completely adoring as Drift’s optics meet his.

“Is there something wrong, snowbird?”

Drift shakes his head, but his gaze narrows slightly in an unspoken warning. “No, not in particular.” He tries to calm his shivering even as he sends commands to stomp on the coding that was activating the pleasure receptors under Ratchet’s digits. He moves to shift off of Ratchet’s lap, taking the hint that perhaps he had pushed a bit too far and overstayed his welcome.

Ratchet tightens his hand on the back of Drift’s head bringing it up sharply to knock against his in a show of affection. ::Still want to chant for me?:: He smiles and pecks a kiss on Drift’s nose.

The clatter of Drift clambering up onto the table stops the heated discussion between Rodimus and Magnus. Both stare at Drift as he makes a sudden dive toward the exit. Without giving any excuse, he stuffs himself through the door before it fully slides open. Optics turn to stare at amused Ratchet who audibly resets his vocalizer.

“Has a bit of tank upset. Said he was going to lay down,” he says, non-pulsed by the open stares. His optics catch a datapad slipped quickly into subspace. “Brainstor, I’d like you to come to the medbay later for that exam you’ve been dodging.” Ratchet levels a suddenly nervous Brainstorm with a knowing look before turning back to the other mechs in the meeting room. “While you’re taking a break from banging your heads together, can we discuss the need to make a quick layover at the next port or colony to restock a few things?”

Magnus is about to answer Ratchet when a faint scream reaches his audios. “That… was from the officers’ section.” He tenses, a half step away from his battle coding and making to rise from his chair.

“Nah. Don’t even worry about it.” Ratchet smiles at the tense mechs around the table. “I think Drift just found the little gift I left him to his berth is all that was. You know how vocal he can be.” He winks at a suddenly sputtering Rodimus and a second in command who had gone very quiet.

“Medical supplies? Restock?” Perceptor offers to steer the conversation back on track so that he could hurry along the process of deleting the lewd grin Ratchet had adopted from his memory banks.

::So you found the gift?:: Ratchet’s face doesn’t register his inner delight when he receives a garbled jumble of death threats and questions about his sanity. ::What? You didn’t like it? Should I have wielded them to the floor then?”

::You… You…:: Drift trails off as he start to pluck bits of metal from his seams. He savagely cuts off the comm and stares at what the rust bucket had done to his berth.

::Game on, you rusted virus-ridden piece of slag.:: He sends a few moments later as he takes one of the metal origami cranes from a particularly sensitive seam on his aft. He looks at the glyphs etches into the wall of his quarters with a glare of doom.

_ These mini Laserbeaks are a NO. So I’ll give them back since you love them so much. Piss off with love, Ratchet. _


	3. Hedging the Bets

Brainstorm flinches and slinks over to a medical berth under the stern optic of Ratchet who had been giving him measured looks through the meeting. So maybe making a quick note of what the scrap had went down in the command meeting to try to finagle any coming betting pool in his favor might not have been such a smooth move, especially under Ratchet’s sharp optics. Brainstorm shunts several text comms from Whirl and Smokescreen to the side. He should have waited to let them know that he had something juicy for them after dealing with Ratchet. Well he was good at lying through his denta so this should be a piece of oilcake, right?

Ratchet gives Firstaide a datapad and says something to him that has the apprentice chief medical officer beaming and suddenly asking a barrage of questions.

“What did you do to make Ratchet angry?”

Brainstorm leaps off the medical berth and clings to the ceiling. His head swings about and see Ambulon standing near. He looks expectant despite the fact that Brainstorm was clinging to the ceiling like a feline organic. Brainstorm shifts his wings and lowers himself back to the berth, his frame language screaming frustrated embarrassment. 

“You’re not gonna make trouble for them are you?”

“I… I… No?”

Ambulon smiles at Brainstorm and lifts a scanner. “You want to relax so the numbers on the scan come out better so Ratchet stays occupied by Firstaide.”

Brainstorm nods and tries to do just that as he feels the first sweeping pass of the scanner.

“So something happened at the command meeting?” 

Brainstorm looks at Ambulon who was barely containing his excitement. His wings tighten and quiver slightly. More information was definitely a swing in his favor. Ambulon looked ready to burst with what he wanted to share. He shoots a quick look to where Ratchet was still talking to an energetic Firstaide.

He shares the scoop with Ambulon who dances in place. After making sure his optics didn’t really pop out of his head at what Ambulon was so excited about, he throws a quick thanks to Ambulon and dodges out of the medbay with a few surprised shouts following him. He makes tracks for Swerve’s.


	4. Whoo whoo!

Ratchet flinches forward as Whirl another firm clap on his back. He sighs as a bit of the energex sloshes out of the glass and onto the bar top. Swerve comes over to wipe it up and fills Ratchet’s audios with inane chatter.

“Congrats, doc!”

Whirl leans on Ratchet to snag the glass that Swerve had offered Ratchet to celebrate his couplehood. A slot opens on Whirl’s shoulder and he downs the entire thing.

Ratchet grips his knee to keep from slugging the already well overcharged mech who was way too happy with the news of good fortunes Ambulond had gushed about with Brainstorm when the glitch had come into the medbay. If he hadn’t of had to take care of that thing with Firstaide and his testing results… 

The doctor swings his head around to nail the lurking scientist with a half sparked glare. Ratchet had known leaving the two alone was a bad idea. And sure call Brainstorm into the medbay into the medbay for those “tests” to circumvent any possible nonsense after the fiasco Drift had pulled in the command meeting hadn’t been a good choice either. But Ratchet hadn’t expected Brainstorm to run directly to Swerve’s to share the goods with Whirl and Smokescreen. Smokescreen had already gathered a large group of mechs placing bets on Primus knew what. Ratchet was pretty sure it involved himself and Drift. And he was just too tired to deal with such scrap as he kept an optic out for Drift for a strike back.

Whirl was a force unto himself with the news. He was in a mood to celebrate any and everything. Especially when there was the chance of it including free energex for himself.

Ratchet leans his head against the bar and holds himself back from lifting it and smacking it back down repeatedly to try and knock some sense back into himself. Regret storms his systems as he stuffs the memory files to the back of his processor. He looks up with a start when small digits touch his elbow. Rung looks at him with a warm smile before sitting next to him.’

“A shanix for you thoughts,” Rung jokes.

Ratchet gives him a half sparked grin at the old joke the two shared back in Ratchet’s university days when Ratchet had taken a break from his studies to get well truly tanked and stumbled upon Rung studying psychology texts in the campus’ records halls.

“Not much rattling around in here.”

Rung laughed at that. “That is usually the case.” He side eyes Ratchet with an all knowing look that has him tensing slightly.

Feeling like a new formation being caught by the brood keeper doing something he shouldn’t, Ratchet turns his attention back to his energex. He’d have to play it calm, knowing Rung wouldn’t necessarily approve of the current tactics Ratchet had involved himself in. He really didn’t want to endure another lecture on the importance of being forthright. In his defense, sparkling optics and sad whimpering pouts had been used against him. Every tyrant had a weakness and that just happened to be his.

“Are you enjoying the game?”

Ratchet starts and chokes on the swig of energex he had just taken. He clears his intake. “Game?” The question still comes out strained and slightly staticy.

Rung nods and points to one of the monitors that Swerve had finally gotten permission to install behind the bar. A game that looked the equivalent to what Ratchet had seen of the human game of football was on the screen closest to him. Ratchet focuses on that and makes a humming noise.

“Indeed. I started following it just recently. Though I find some of the rules rather perplexing.”

Ratchet laughs and forces his frame relax. “Kick the ball, get it to a goal, don’t get clobbered by the opposite team.”

“I see.”

Rung takes off his spectacles and pulls a cloth from subspace. His gaze is focused on this task, and Ratchet relaxes further.

“Congratulations are in order.”

Rung gives Ratchet a beaming smile as he replaces his specs.

“While I cannot give you a hearty what what like Whirl is apt to doing,” Rung lays a warm hance on Ratchet’s wrist, “I can give you a hearty congratulations on your new found happiness.”

He lifts his glass and nods at Ratchet’s. The doctor laughs faintly and lifts his in return. They clink.

“A wish for great happiness for you and Drift.”

Rung’s voice was pitches so nearby mecs would hear and take up a round of praise for Ratchet’s happiness. Ratchet hunches in on himself.

Rung laughs and pats Ratchet on the back. “Not too old to be embarrassed are you?”

Ratchet covers his optics with one hand and misses the measuring look Rung gives him and the sly tint to his smile as well.

“So how much should I wager with Smokescreen that this game is going to bare fruit for you and Drift?”

Ratchet turns to level a truly startled look at Rung. He sputters when he knows he’s en caught in shenanigans. His processor grapples for excuses and to try to brush Rung’s question off.

“Well I think I will at least lay a bet on there being a win for the love angle on the blue team.”

Ratchet continues to sputter as Rung walks away to lay a bet with Smokescreen. He downs the rest of his energex and heads for the door. 

Work, he needed to work.

“Whoo, doc! Go get that hippie!”

Ratchet’s step stumbles as he turns to glare at Whirl who lifts a cube to him before melding in with the fray that was Swerve’s between shifts.


	5. Strike!

Drift snickers and peeks around the corner that hid him from the main hallway where he was stalking his prey.

It had been two weeks since the crane incident. It had taken him some time, but he finally had what he needed for Operation Strike. And in the meantime he had acted as if nothing had happened. He backed off a bit on the cuddliness they had been asked to include in this plot. Ratchet was actually starting to relax into their routine. He had even started using the metal origami to decorate the Lost Light’s medbay, though that may have been mostly because of Ambulon’s prompting.

Drift grins and ducks back around the corner to look at the sack in front of him. He snickers and checks his chronometer for the time. Ere was still some time before Ratchet would be getting out of his meeting with Magnus. Drift takes a few deep vents.

He knew he’d have to be fast if he was going to pull this off. He reaches into the sack to take out the stasis colla he had “borrowed” from the brig.

A noise has Drift tosses the sack aside. He eyes the small mirror he had installed to let him see the hallway without revealing himself. A sharp smile settles over Drift’s face, and he coils his frame as Ratchet draws closer, his optics look over the datapad in his hand. He’d never guess what was about to hit him until it was too late.

Drift had thumped Ratchet into a wall giving him a good knock. He snaps the stasis collar about Ratchet’s neck before dragging him back to the side hallway. Shift change was a bit of a good while away yet, but Drift knew he had to act fast.

He gives Ratchet a winning smile as Ratchet had finally regained his senses. Drift reaches and laughs. Ratchet pauses to give him a deadpan look.

“DId you just laugh like a cartoon villain?”

“What? No!”

“You did.”

Ratchet cocks a smile. “So going to tie me to some railroad tracks,” he snarked.

Drift grumbles, wishing he had gone with a stasis collar that would of shut down Ratchet’s vocalizer as he continues to mock Drift.

He snorts and cries in triumph as he finally seizes the monstrosity he had been looking for. He shoots a manic smile at Ratchet who had gone quiet when he layed optics on the horror that Drift pulled out of the bag.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Hm. Now let me think about that as I remove cranes from my butt.”

Drift pounces on Ratchet. And though he couldn’t move, Ratchet used his voice to lay into Drift. It doesn’t cause him to pause, however, and he easily dresses up Ratchet in his carefully crafted gift. Drift steps back to look over his handy work. He takes a few quick snaps.

“You look so precious!”

Drift touches his chest over his spark. Ratchet sat on the floor in a shaggy bright green and neon orange teddy bear suit with a large heart on its stomach that said  _ “Drift’s Beloved Teddy Bear” _ . Ratchet growls and glares daggers at Drift who bend down to place a lock on the suits zipper. Ratchet would need to make his way through several main hallways to get to either the medbay or his quarters to find a tool to remove the lock and the suit.

Drift boops Ratchet nose before activating a code that would unlock the stasis collar after a short delay. He wastes no time to transform and get out of Ratchet’s throwing range.

::Have fun, teddy bear!:: 


	6. Cupid and Eros

“Stop that.”

A short pause.

“And delete those snaps.”

Ambulon levels a glare at Firstaide who shakes with barely contained laughter. He considers giving Firstaide a good whack when Ratchet throws a warning glare over at his two apprentices who were suppose to be taking inventory. Ambulon turns back to the task, but his processor wanders to the predicament he is starting to notice that Ratchet and Drift have.

And personally, Ambulon had found the teddy bear outfit adorable if garish in its color scheme. Firstaide was just highly entertained.

“You know,” Firstaide taps his chin, “we should give the old mechs some help.”

Ambulon stiffens at this. His spark aflutter as ideas on how they could help this budding romance crowd his processor. He shakes his head to clear it before shooting a reluctant and mournful glance at Ratchet who had finally gotten out of the suit and was balling it up. He hangs his head.

“Ratchet told us to stay out of it.”

Ambulon can still feel the ring in his audios from when Ratchet had said, with much volume after Ambulon had nearly talked himself to death in his excitement, that it was none of their business, and they were to stay out of it. And while Ambulon wholeheartedly wished to respect that which, he was finding it more and more difficult with every passing day not to find ways to help both Ratchet and Drift. Being a romantic spark, he wanted to bring happiness to the budding couple.

Firstaide slings an arm around Ambulon when Ratchet had stormed into his office.

“Think about it, Amb! We can play matchmaker and help those two out.”

Firstaide touches a digit to his chin, glad his mask covered his wide grin.

“They do seem to be struggling.”

Ambulon plays with the datapad he was holding. He considers how mad Ratchet had been when he had entered the medbay like a green and orange typhoon.

“Drift is also missing the mark on those gifts.”

“See! See! WE could totally help those two codgers hook up.”

Ambulon gives Firstaide an exasperated look. Firstaide places a hand over his spark and looks solemn.

“I promise to be the most helpful little cupid to the mighty Eros.”


End file.
